


an element calm and deep

by beeeskneees



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Basically they go to a pub and play Never Have I Ever, M/M, No baby, a bit of an AU, and they're in love, post series 3, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 01:21:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeeskneees/pseuds/beeeskneees
Summary: Sherlock knew he had brought this on himself.  A few days prior, Donovan had come to him for help—a rare thing for her to do—and he had been so preoccupied with John that he had (perhaps rudely) refused to look at the case she was offering.  It seemed that Donovan, when upset, reacted much in the same way that a wild animal might, by lashing out at the thing that had caused her pain.  In this case, that thing was Sherlock, and he had a feeling that it was only going to get worse.---Written for an anonymous prompt on tumblr.





	an element calm and deep

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little one-shot written for this prompt that was sent to me on tumblr:
> 
> "Sally and Anderson ask Sherlock and John to the Yards bar night in the hopes of embarrassing Sherlock by forcing Sherlock to confess his love for John during their game of Never have I ever or Truth and Dare. But Sherlock and John have been together for a while now and use this as an excuse to make everyone uncomfortable."
> 
> This is sort of in keeping with the canon events. It's after John's wedding, Mary is no longer in the picture, and the baby doesn't exist.

This thing between them was so new. After everything that had happened between them over the years, the development of a romantic relationship between them was simultaneously a relief and a source of new stress. Sherlock had never been with someone like this before, and although John assured him that that didn’t matter, he couldn’t help but worry that his lack of experience was going to make him seem sub-par in comparison to John’s previous relationships. Beyond that, he hadn’t yet figured out all of the rules. He could make assumptions about some of them. For example, he was fairly certain that they weren’t allowed to speak about their relationship in public. Along that same line, public displays of affection were likely prohibited. But those were the only rules he’d worked out so far. Luckily, when they were invited to the Yard’s weekly night out, those two rules were the only ones that Sherlock would probably need to observe.

The Yarders used to invite John out fairly regularly before Sherlock had fallen, and while John had gone a few times, he had never seemed overly interested in attending. “They just play teenage party games all night,” John had told him, and Sherlock had no idea what teenagers would even play at parties, so it sounded doubly unappealing to him.

Now, though, they were starting to get a bit antsy, needing to get out of the flat. Since their relationship had started two weeks earlier, they’d essentially sequestered themselves away in order to discover the things about one another that they’d been prevented from knowing for so long. Still, after two weeks inside, cabin fever began to set in, and they both jumped at the opportunity to be around other people, to be out of their flat, and to maybe get a little bit tipsy.

“How do I look?” Sherlock asked as he walked out of the room that had since become _theirs_. He held his hands out to his sides and spun around to give John the full effect. He was wearing a navy suit with a simple white shirt underneath, and although he knew he looked presentable, he wasn’t sure how well this look would fit in with the rest of their companions at the pub.

John’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes raked over Sherlock in a way that sent a thrill down his spine. “Gorgeous,” John breathed.

Sherlock felt his cheeks heat as they almost always did when John paid him such a compliment. He wasn’t used to it, and he was quickly discovering just how complimentary John could be when in a relationship with someone. “You look nice as well,” he murmured. John was wearing jeans and a simple black shirt, but the shirt clung to him in a way that made Sherlock feel a bit dizzy.

John laughed and shook his head. “We’re going to be so obvious,” he said.

Sherlock felt a bit of panic settle in his stomach, but John didn’t appear to be scolding him for his own obviousness. Perhaps because they were both being sappy, John wasn’t going to be upset with him alone. Sherlock made a mental note to try not to be so obvious when they were out so as not to violate the rules of their relationship.

* * *

 

Everyone was already there when Sherlock and John arrived, and from the look of it, they were already about one drink in. They were all crowded around a few tables that had been pushed together, and they had left two open seats for the two of them.

“All right, John?” Lestrade said, patting him on the back.

John nodded and smiled at his friend before turning to Sherlock. “I’m going to go get us some drinks,” he murmured. “What do you want?”

“Not beer,” he responded, grimacing as he recalled John’s stag night. “Something I can’t taste.”

John looked positively charmed, and Sherlock wondered how he had missed looks like that before they’d gotten together. “Something fruity it is.” With that, he stood up and made his way over toward the bar.

When Sherlock looked away from his retreating form, he noticed that Donovan was staring at him with something akin to a devious smirk on her face. “What?” he demanded, not liking that expression at all.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just wondering how much longer until John comes to his senses and gets out.”

“Oi,” Lestrade cut in, his expression clearly displeased.

Sherlock knew he had brought this on himself. A few days prior, Donovan had come to him for help—a rare thing for her to do—and he had been so preoccupied with John that he had (perhaps rudely) refused to look at the case she was offering. It seemed that Donovan, when upset, reacted much in the same way that a wild animal might, by lashing out at the thing that had caused her pain. In this case, that thing was Sherlock, and he had a feeling that it was only going to get worse.

John came back with their drinks, setting down something that was an unnatural shade of pink before Sherlock. “What’s going on?” he asked as he sat down. Underneath the table, Sherlock moved so that their legs were pressed together, trying to get some modicum of comfort from the contact.

“We were just thinking about playing Never Have I Ever,” Donovan responded.

John raised his eyebrows, looking around at the rest of the people at the table. No one pointed out that they had not actually been thinking that as a group, so John had no reason to assume that Donovan was lying. “Here I thought that turning forty meant not having to play things like that again.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but smile at that, and John, seeming to sense his smile, looked over at him softly, just for a moment. Sherlock was able to take solace in that brief, shared moment.

“That sounds like fun,” the man to Donovan’s left hurried to say. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. He was a relatively new forensics technician that had worked extensively with Lestrade’s team over his short career, and he was clearly looking to sleep with Sally. He probably would have agreed to any of her idiotic ideas.

Everyone else around the table merely shrugged and deemed Never Have I Ever to be an appropriate way to pass the time and to work on getting others drunker. Eventually, John acquiesced as well. Sherlock resolutely did not comment. He knew that this was only being used as a tool to humiliate him in front of John. Donovan obviously wanted to demonstrate to John all of Sherlock’s oddities, but, little did she know, Sherlock had recently undergone a series of ‘firsts’ with John that would put him on a much more level field along with the other participants of the game. He simply stared her down when she shot him a smug look.

“Pretty sure everyone knows the rules,” Donovan said. “We go around in a circle, and whoever’s turn it is will say something they’ve never done. People who have done that thing will take a drink and hold up one finger. First person to hit ten fingers or to do ten things has to finish their drink and buy everyone another round.”

Everyone nodded. Sherlock started to wish that he hadn’t done so many things with John. That would have allowed him to stay relatively sober while getting Donovan increasingly drunk.

Hopkins, one of the DIs Sherlock had recently taken to, went first. “Never have I ever broken a bone.”

Sherlock, John, Lestrade, and two others in their group took sips of their drinks and held a finger up.

Sherlock shot a curious look over at John, who smiled and said, “Got angry at someone who was shit-talking Harry when we were younger, and when I punched him to shut him up, I ended up breaking a bone in my hand. You?”

“Fell out of a tree when I was six while trying to get a closer look at some bees, and ended up breaking my arm,” Sherlock explained. He was starting to feel much more kindly toward this game. If it allowed him to discover more things about John, then he figured he could certainly play it through to the end. After all, he simply loved knowing things about John.

It started out relatively simple, with no one too eager to bring up anything too sexual yet. Sherlock had two fingers raised by the end of their first round, as he had broken a bone and had been arrested. John had four for breaking a bone, being arrested, riding a motorbike, and playing an organised sport.

On their second round, though, Donovan smirked at him and said, “Never have I ever been in love with my best friend.”

Sherlock knew what she was trying to do, and he felt himself tense a bit. He and John hadn’t yet said those things to one another, but they were at least in a relationship now, which made the entire thing less uncomfortable, although not by much. Slowly, he lifted a finger and took a sip of his cocktail. John and a handful of other people did the same thing. John kept shooting him concerned looks, but Sherlock ignored him.

The man beside Donovan, the one who wanted to have sex with her, seemed to pick up on just who she was targeting. “Never have I ever faked my death,” he said with pride.

Sherlock grimaced. That was still a sore spot in his relationship with John, and he certainly didn’t want to have it brought up in such a public space. He continued not to look at his boyfriend, determined to get through this without either inciting an argument between them or exposing the nature of their relationship, and he couldn’t do that if he was carefully watching John’s expressions. Sherlock took his sip and held up another finger.

“Never have I ever taken hard drugs.” That was another sip and now five fingers up for Sherlock.

“Never have I ever kissed a woman.” Sips and fingers up for the majority of the men, including Sherlock who had (very reluctantly) kissed Janine.

“Never have I ever pretended to be in a relationship with someone.” That one came from John, and he seemed to be trying to tease Sherlock in order to get him to relax a bit. It actually started to work.

“Never have I ever grown a beard.” John took a sip at that one, now having seven fingers up, and Sherlock started to imagine just how good John would look with a full beard instead of just that ridiculous mustache.

“Never have I ever been kept in hospital.” Sherlock, John, and a few others drank to that, leaving John and Sherlock with eight fingers up each. Apparently things that most normal people had not done were the sorts of things that the two of them did regularly, leaving them closer to losing the game than anyone else.

“Never have I ever been shot.” Now Sherlock and John both had nine fingers up, meaning that one of them would lose at any moment. John nudged Sherlock’s shoulder with his own and jokingly murmured, “You’re going down,” and Sherlock was starting to relax a bit more. That was, until he realised that it was Donovan’s turn next.

“Never have I ever been in love with John Watson.”

And just like that, everything, including his brightening mood, came crashing down. This was too much. This thing they had was too new, and there were rules, and, yes, he was in love with John Watson, but John didn’t exactly know that yet, and no one else needed to know it. They were going to pity him for the fact that he was pining over John, and that would only make more poignant the pain he felt at being kept in this secretive relationship.

Sherlock stood up abruptly, finished off the rest of his drink, and stormed off to the toilets. He needed a moment to himself. He needed to think. Once in the toilets, he stood braced over a sink, looking at himself in the mirror. He needed to pull himself together, or he was going to end up ruining this entire evening for John.

The door opened, and he didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Those footsteps would have been familiar to him under any circumstances.

“In love with me, hm?” John said, and he was clearly aiming for a joking tone, but there was an undercurrent of concern that made the statement fall flat.

Sherlock ignored him.

John sighed and came to stand behind him, placing one hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Donovan was trying to get a rise out of you,” he said. “I’m sorry she’s being so horrid. We can leave, if you want.”

Sherlock shook his head, looking down at his hands rather than up at John. “I’m sorry.”

He could practically hear John’s frown. “What are you sorry for, love?”

“Now everyone knows how I feel about you, and they’re going to be asking us both questions, and I _know_ you wanted to keep this a secret, but I don’t think that’s—”

“Wait,” John cut in, voice firm in a way that made Sherlock immediately fall silent. “Why did you think I want this to be a secret?”

Sherlock did look up at John then, his confusion winning out over his distress. “Because you indicated as much when we first started this.”

John’s look of incredulity might have been amusing in other circumstances, but as it was, it only served to confuse Sherlock even more. “I never said that,” he countered.

Sherlock scoffed. “Of course you did. I remember it. You suggested that we keep this quiet.”

“ _When_ did I do that?” John sounded slightly concerned now.

“We were talking about the status of our relationship, and you said, ‘I would prefer it if no one else new about this for now,’ and I said, ‘That’s fine,’ and then we went into the library to do some work, and—” Now Sherlock was the one frowning. The memory was there, but it wasn’t quite right. John simply let him think his way through it. “Oh,” he said after a long moment. “The library. But we don’t have a library.”

“No, we don’t,” John helpfully supplied.

Sherlock looked up at John, his brow still furrowed. “It was in my mind palace. I had that conversation with you in my mind palace.”

John smiled softly at him and brought his thumb up to smooth out the crease between Sherlock’s brows. “It certainly seems that way, love.”

Sherlock was still reeling from all of this. “Does that mean that you don’t care if people know about us?” he asked.

John leaned forward to kiss him on the nose, which would have been ridiculous if it hadn’t made Sherlock feel so warm. “I would actually rather like people to know about us,” he replied, “because that way I would get to show you off.”

Sherlock’s cheeks heated a bit. John wanted to show him off. This was such a dramatic change from what he had been expecting that his entire equilibrium seemed to be thrown off.

John kissed him, pressing their lips together in a way that was so sweet it made Sherlock ache. When they pulled apart, John kept their hands linked together. “Let’s get back out there, yeah? And this time, if anyone tries to pull something to upset you, I’ll punch them.”

Sherlock laughed. “Wouldn’t want you to break your hand again,” he said.

John smiled. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve had enough practice defending you by this point that I know how to do it without injuring myself in the process.”

And because John essentially already knew it, Sherlock said, “I love you.”

John’s expression softened even further. He cupped the side of Sherlock’s face. “I love you, too.”

Sherlock’s chest felt simultaneously tight and like it was going to explode, and John chuckled and kissed him again. He had no idea how he was going to go back out there and act normal in front of everyone else. John seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he laughed again and said, “God, everyone’s going to take one look at us and think we shagged in here.”

Sherlock perked up a bit. “Maybe we should.”

John shook his head, but he was grinning. “I’ll take you to a seedy bar, just the two of us, and we’ll shag in the toilets, but I’m not exactly in the mood knowing that Donovan is only a few meters away out there.”

Sherlock shrugged. “I suppose that’s fair.”

John tugged on his hand and led him out the door. “For now, let’s just focus on getting through one more round of this, and then we’ll go home so I can shag you in our bed.”

And Sherlock liked that idea very much as well, so he let the matter drop.

They got a few looks when they returned to their seats, but they were no longer holding hands at that point, so there was nothing about their outward appearance to indicate that there had been anything romantic between them in the toilets. Donovan, seemingly satisfied with her efforts, proposed another round of Never Have I Ever. People started to look a bit uncomfortable at the suggestion, stealing nervous glances at Sherlock. It was nice to know that they hadn’t all relished in his embarrassment, but now that Sherlock knew the updated rules of his relationship with John, at Donovan’s proposal, he immediately said, “I’m in.”

It started out in much the same way as their previous game, with relatively tame declarations made. By the time it got around to John, though, everything changed.

“Never have I ever been called ‘baby’ during sex,” he said with a smirk, looking directly at Sherlock.

Sherlock’s cheeks heated a bit, and he shot John an affronted look, knowing that that statement had been targeted directly at him. A few people took drinks, and everyone stared as Sherlock did the same. “Never have I ever been in love with Sherlock Holmes,” he shot back, still staring at John.

John smacked him in the arm but kept smiling, even as he took a sip and held another one of his fingers up.

Everyone else seemed to be confused, and Donovan looked downright shocked. Her whole purpose had been to humiliate Sherlock in front of John, and now it seemed that her plan was backfiring.

With every round, Sherlock and John used their turns to expose another part of their relationship to their companions, saying things that clearly only applied to one another.

“Never have I ever claimed that being the little spoon is better for thinking,” John said, and Sherlock glared at him even as he drank.

“Never have I ever used that ridiculous fake-stretching move to get my arm around someone,” Sherlock said, this time prompting John to drink.

“Never have I ever invited my partner to watch a documentary on bees as part of a date-night,” John said, and there were a few chuckles from around the table as Sherlock grumpily took a sip of his drink.

“Never have I ever used ridiculous pet names with my partner,” Sherlock countered.

John actually looked a bit worried at that one. “Do you not like them?” he asked.

Sherlock immediately put his hand on John’s arm. “I love them,” he murmured earnestly.

There was a groan from across the table. “Get a room,” someone muttered, but neither Sherlock nor John seemed to hear.

In the end, the two of them lost, likely because all of their responses were meant to target one another. It hardly mattered. Everyone else was beginning to look a bit uncomfortable with the level of personal information that was being revealed about their relationship. Sherlock didn’t care. He was simply ecstatic that they were allowed to talk about this at all.

After that round, they both stood up to leave, reaching an unspoken agreement that they were going to spend the rest of the night by themselves. Lestrade patted them on the back and awkwardly mumbled something about being proud of them. John smiled at him, glared at Donovan, and took Sherlock’s hand on his own before they finally walked out of the pub.

“Well,” Sherlock said, “that was thoroughly unenjoyable.”

John shrugged, walking close to Sherlock as they were hit with the chill in the outside air. “I don’t know. It was sort of nice to ruin Sally’s plan.”

Sherlock smiled. “They all know you’re in love with me now.”

John snorted. “I certainly hope so. Next time this happens, we’re just going to show up, make out in front of everyone, and leave. It’ll be our cheapest night out yet.”

Sherlock laughed. “I highly doubt we’ll be invited back to one of those. I believe that was what people call TMI.”

John squeezed his hand and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I’d be perfectly happy to never go to a night out again. We can just stay in and have sex instead, and while they’re all out together, they’ll know what we’re doing, and it’ll have the same effect as what we did tonight.”

Sherlock nodded, content. “That sounds like a brilliant plan.”

“Sounds like my brilliant boyfriend’s been rubbing off on me.”

“Mm, I think your brilliant boyfriend certainly will be when we get home.”

John laughed and shook his head. “Cheesy,” he said, but he definitely picked up his pace, seemingly eager to get back to their flat as soon as possible.

Sherlock laughed as well and held tightly to John’s hand, thinking that this was the happiest he had ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> "True love is not a strong, fiery, impetuous passion. It is, on the contrary, an element calm and deep. It looks beyond mere externals, and is attracted by qualities alone. It is wise and discriminating, and its devotion is real and abiding."  
> -Ellen G. White
> 
> \---
> 
> Comments/kudos appreciated! I hope you all enjoy this!


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